


hello, my new dawn (welcome to the new age)

by dreamweavernyx



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, five times fic, possible historical inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamweavernyx/pseuds/dreamweavernyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Hikaru Sulu and Pavel Chekov first meet each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hello, my new dawn (welcome to the new age)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [hello, my new dawn (welcome to the new age) 你好，新曙光（欢迎来到新纪元）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183947) by [asadeseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asadeseki/pseuds/asadeseki)



> Subheadings are numbers 0 through 4 in Russian. 0 is canonverse, everything else is AU.
> 
> [Some](http://casinpanties.tumblr.com/post/52691765893) [prompts](http://jessicamiriamdrew.tumblr.com/post/53732583969/au-where-chekov-is-a-soviet-defector-during-the) [came](http://tinytintins.tumblr.com/post/53978506661/pavel-being-really-good-with-children-and-hikaru) from gratuitous stalking of the #chulu tag on Tumblr.

ноль;;

Hikaru Sulu has never been a fan of Astrophysics, and despite it being a required elective for him to complete his Xenobiology major on time there isn’t a day where he doesn’t wish, even for the tiniest moment, that he can somehow magick his way out of the dusty lecture hall, away from the droning of the archaic Astrophysics professor.

 

Today, again, he drags himself slowly out of his seat, holding back a yawn as he gathers his notes together and shoves them all haphazardly into his bag.

 

“Coming for lunch?” his roommate asks, prodding his shoulder.

 

“Save me a seat,” Hikaru replies. “I have a couple of questions about the involvement of quantum tunneling-”

 

His roommate laughs, clapping him on the back. “Sure.”

 

Hikaru watches as his roommate exits the lecture hall from the back door, before turning around and slowly making his way down to the long queue of students waiting their turn to ask questions. It’s slow progress, and five students before Hikaru’s turn the professor blinks at his ancient watch, declares himself late for his next lecture, and shuffles out of the hall, informing the rest of the queue to find him at their next lecture.

 

_This is why the queue never shrinks,_ Hikaru grouses to himself, scowling at the now-empty teacher’s desk as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s about to leave for the mess hall when he sees a tiny kid down by the giant chalkboard – god knows why their ancient lecturer prefers to stick to 21 st-century Terran-style lecturing materials instead of using the holoscreens – trying his best to wipe off the white chalk scrawls.

 

It only takes a moment for Hikaru to make up his mind, and he strolls over to the kid, putting his bag down as he goes.

 

“Hey kid,” he says. “You sure you’re in the right lecture hall? First-year Astrophysics is in the East Wing.”

 

The kid – who can’t _possibly_ be more than fourteen, Hikaru reckons – turns around and regards Hikaru with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen.

 

“I know,” he tells Hikaru, some sort of European accent thick in his voice. “I am taking advanced Astrophysics.”

 

Hikaru goggles, because advanced Astrophysics is pretty much akin to an Honours degree at Starfleet Academy, and to see a wisp of a kid in first year who studies it scares him, somewhat.

 

(At least, until he remembers the unanswered questions he still has.)

 

“Say, Mister Advanced Astrophysics-”

 

“Chekov,” the kid interrupts, pushing an errant corkscrew curl away from his face with a chalky hand. “Pavel Andreievich.”

 

“Hikaru Sulu,” replies Hikaru. “So, I’m guessing you’re some sort of whizkid? Only, I have these questions from today’s lecture…”

 

He trails off, and Chekov laughs a little.

 

“You want me to help, _da_? Here, let me see.”

 

~

****

один;;

There are days when Hikaru Sulu regrets focusing most of his time on his career. He’s a moderately high-flying expatriate now, and while his wages help to keep his little family afloat, he always misses his precious few free weekends when he brings his daughter out to the park or the zoo, watching her laugh and twirl and brighten his day.

 

It may suck to be a single mother, but Hikaru can tell you than being a single father is not that much better. (Especially when you know next to nothing about raising a little girl, despite growing up with three sisters.)

 

As his co-workers begin to pack up and leave for the day, Hikaru drains the last dregs of coffee in his mug and grabs his briefcase, heading out of the office and straight for the daycare.

 

Demora’s a precocious four-and-a-half-year-old now (“Never forget the ‘and-half’, Daddy!”) and loves to talk and ask questions about _anything_. He remembers Mrs White telling him about a new helper at the daycare, and he wonders if Demora’s talked his ears off yet.

 

He arrives at the daycare when the sun has long disappeared below the city skyline of San Francisco, the last parent to pick up their child for the day, as usual. The yard fence creaks loudly behind him as he shuts it, and three heartbeats later the front door is flung open and a speeding projectile rams into him with a screech of “Daddy!”.

 

“What did you do today?” he asks Demora, patting her hair as she tightens her tiny grip on his leg.

 

There is movement from inside the daycare, and he looks up to see a blonde boy in his late teens, wearing the standard-issue daycare apron and grinning at Demora.

 

“Are you the new guy?” Hikaru asks as the boy approaches the two of them.

 

The boy nods.

 

“Pavel Chekov,” he introduces. “I’m volunteering here for the summer, just until college starts up.”

 

“Mister Pav is cool!” Demora enthuses, lifting her head from Hikaru’s pant leg. “We played space heroes today! And we drew pictures! I drew a picture of him!”

 

From her tiny ladybird rucksack she yanks out a slightly crumpled piece of paper, and even in the semi-darkness Hikaru can make out what looks to be a huge cloud of swirls (artistic representation, perhaps?) and a smiley face below that.

 

“That’s great,” Hikaru tells her, ruffling her hair, and she bounces on the balls of her feet, beaming.

 

“Well,” he continues, turning to the boy. “Thank you for looking after my daughter today, but we must be off or we’ll never get home for dinner.”

 

“Dinner!” Demora chimes in, face lighting up at the mention of food.

 

Pavel Chekov nods, and he grasps Hikaru’s hand in a firm handshake.

 

“It’s been my pleasure.”

 

~

 

два;;

 

Hikaru Sulu usually trusts the decisions of Commander Pike, but he’s still trying to wrap his head around this one.

 

“So we’re trying to advance our space explorations faster than the Soviets?”

 

“That is correct, Mister Sulu.”

 

“And this new guy you’ve brought in to help us with that is a Soviet?”

 

Pike shrugs.

 

“He’s a defector, Mister Sulu. He’s no more loyal to the Soviet Union than you or me.”

 

Hikaru shrugs, but acquiesces. He may be an accomplished botanist, but he’s first and foremost an astronaut, and space is where he feels the most comfortable. If a Soviet’s going to help him get into space, then so be it.

 

“I still don’t see why you’ve called me to meet him, though. Sir.”

 

Pike opens his mouth to reply, but at that moment there is a knock on the door of Pike’s office.

 

“Come in,” Pike calls.

 

The door swings open, and two men walk in. Hikaru recognizes the first – Mr Neil Armstrong, one of the best astronauts and aerospace engineers NASA has to offer. The other man he does not recognize, a young blonde looking barely past his teens with a flattened afro and the grace of a baby deer.

 

“Mister Chekov, this is Mister Hikaru Sulu, astronaut. Mister Sulu, this is Mister Pavel Chekov, physicist.”

 

They nod to each other and shake hands briefly, before they turn back to Pike.

 

“As I was saying,” Pike says, looking at the three of them in turn, “I have called the three of you here for an important mission. Mister Armstrong and Mister Sulu, you are going to fly out to the moon. And Mister Chekov will help you be the first ones to step onto the surface of it.”

 

Hikaru glances at Chekov, who stares right back, determination burning in his eyes. He tilts his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement, a small smile curling around his lips.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

~

 

три;;

 

There’s another explosion today, and when Hikaru Sulu ventures out of his little hut by the sea he sees a smoking ruin of a ship, slowly sinking into the water.

 

There aren’t going to be many fish around today too, he figures, and not for the first time he hopes the entire war will end soon so he can go back to his peaceful life.

 

Sighing, he slips on his patched _hanten_ and heads out to look for firewood. All around him the leaves are already changing from deep green to flaming red, and Hikaru knows that winter is soon coming.

 

He doesn’t have much luck with the wood – it’s mostly little twigs and sodden branches – so he heads down to the beach area to see if he can pick up any driftwood.

 

Immediately, he sees a dark shape on the beach. He knows it’s not driftwood because it’s moving, and behind it there are red streaks on the pale sand.

 

“Are you okay?” he calls, running towards what he can only conclude is an injured person.

 

The person in question groans and stills, and Hikaru repeats his question as he reaches his side.

 

The person is a man with hair the colour of autumn leaves and eyes a blue he has never seen before, and Hikaru figures this man must be a Russian, a survivor of the ship the Japanese Navy bombed just off the beach a while prior.

 

The man babbles something in a foreign language, and Hikaru furrows his brow.

 

“I’m trying to help you,” he says, as he thinks of the English word for help. “ _Herupu_?” he tries, and the man falls silent and nods tiredly.

 

Emboldened, Hikaru tries again.

 

“I, Hikaru,” he says, pointing at himself. “You?”

 

“Pavel,” mumbles the man, and Hikaru repeats _Paberu_ , tongue stumbling over the strange name.

 

_Paberu._

 

For now, he figures, as he helps the man up and begins walking in the direction of his hut, just a name will have to do.

 

~

 

четыре;;

 

Hikaru Sulu wakes up to a dark room and a scratchy straw blanket thrown over him.

 

“You’re awake!”

 

Groaning, he tries to sit up, only to feel a pair of hands helping him prop himself up against the pillow. A boyish face with concerned blue eyes is shoved into his vision for a few seconds before his benefactor draws back again.

 

“Where am I?” he mumbles, furrowing his brows as he tries to clear the buzzing in his head. “I remember fire…and nothing else except my name.”

 

“Nobody remembers,” says the boy, a tad sorrowfully. “You’ll forget too, but that’s probably for the better. The newly dead always have the hardest time.”

 

“I’m…dead?”

 

The boy nods slowly. “Everyone who comes here is. I’m Pavel Chekov, by the way.”

 

“Hikaru Sulu,” he manages, and Chekov grins.

 

“Well, Hikaru Sulu,” he says. “Welcome to the afterlife.”

 

Hikaru frowns – there’s just something _inexplicably_ familiar about Chekov, but he can’t place it.

 

“Have we met before?”

 

Chekov laughs now, a short amused bark, and shrugs.

 

“Maybe we have,” he says. “Somewhere, in another time.”

 

 

 

_fin._


End file.
